


High Improbability

by Allerleirauh



Series: A Long Road [5]
Category: Stargate Universe
Genre: Introspection, M/M, Post Series, Rivals to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-30
Updated: 2013-01-30
Packaged: 2017-11-27 12:51:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/662199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allerleirauh/pseuds/Allerleirauh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Late at night Young watches a sleeping Rush, pondering life and how much has changed since they first arrived on Destiny.</p>
            </blockquote>





	High Improbability

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tarlan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/gifts).



> Betaed by lahela  
> Prompt: coming out of stasis  
> Written for: Small Fandoms Fest / FEST 12

He jolts awake with a violent shudder and the sickening feeling of falling, making all his muscles tense reflexively, causing him to draw a sharp breath. For a second he feels completely disorientated, not able to do more than listen to his wildly hammering heart, shivering at the sensation of cold sweat covering his whole body that causes his shirt and boxers to stick to his skin. It must’ve been a nightmare that woke him, though he can’t remember what he might have dreamt about. He knows there are quite a few possibilities to choose from and it’s disconcerting that even immediately afterwards he can’t remember.

Wearily he pushes himself up to his elbows, knowing that going back to sleep will be impossible now, when a soft touch at his right arm makes him flinch again, causes him to look down and to the side. He isn’t alone in his bed and it startles him that he didn’t notice immediately upon waking, but his mind is still confused and reeling with anxiety and even if he can’t remember the nightmare’s specifics, it has left him with such a feeling of terror that it takes him a conscious effort to suppress the urge to curl up on himself.

Leaning to the side, he angles for his watch lying on the nightstand. It’s just past 1 am. He groans softly, his gaze briefly wandering to the small viewport, taking in the steady flicker of FTL. That at least is a calming sight as being in FTL means that they are on their way, that they are following their path along the eon old trail being laid out for _Destiny_ to fulfil her mission. FTL also means relative safety and that’s something he always cherishes.

He pushes himself fully up to a sitting position until he’s able to rest his back against the wall at the head of his bed and he looks away from the viewport and back to Rush lying at his side. He’s still feeling twitchy and he shifts slightly to find the most comfortable position when a soft moan coming from Rush makes him pause. He looks at Rush’s face, sees lines of tension appearing around eyes and mouth. It seems he isn’t the only one troubled by nightmares tonight.

Shifting again, he leans slightly forward and he reaches out, carding his fingers through Rush’s hair until the palm of his hand rests against the back of Rush’s head while his fingertips brush against the nape. It’s a touch both cautious and knowledgeable, not applied for the first time and carefully designed to be gentle without waking. Under his touch he feels muscles relaxing almost immediately as Rush’s sleep deepens.

Young leans back again, keeping his hand in place. For a while he does nothing more than listen to his body. His heart-beat is back to normal, but the restlessness hasn’t dissipated. The nightmare has left him running high on adrenaline and that means that sleep still isn’t an option, not for a while at least.

Very briefly he thinks about waking Rush, but rejects the idea almost immediately. It doesn’t take more than a casual look to see that Rush desperately needs his sleep, dark circles under his eyes a clear testimony to the man’s exhaustion. Young considers getting up instead. He could try to work or, if that should fail, he could simply get up and out and do some solitary early morning patrolling. The latter holds a definite appeal to him, but he knows that he can’t move about undetected by the night shift and they would inevitably tell Camile and most likely TJ. He isn’t too keen on a speech by either of the two women about him needing his sleep, expressing their disapproval for any late night prowling.

He sighs, letting his gaze slowly travel through his quarters, until it settles on Rush again. Young looks closely, more closely than before, taking in Rush’s slightly curled up position, his lax features. Seeing Rush here in his quarters, finding Rush in his bed upon waking, that still holds a certain novelty. The sight gives him pause and it’s conjuring up memories, standing out in clear detail in his mind. They are sharp and insistent and as impossible to ignore as the man to whom they refer.

Young almost groans at the realization of what his mind seems to be up to, but he gives in to this revery with a resigned sigh. He and Rush — it’s certainly a subject that will keep him occupied for a while. He lets his thoughts return to the beginning, trying to recall his very first impressions of the man. After all this time he can barely remember. It seems so very long ago, so unimaginably far away. He chuckles softly at his own choice of words. Well, he’s much farther away now, much farther in fact than he would’ve ever believed possible.

***

Assuming military command of Icarus Base was the right thing to do, of that he was absolutely certain. More importantly it was the only viable choice if he wanted to advance his career any further. He wasn’t getting any younger and he was all too conscious of the fact that his days of being in the field were fast drawing to a close, if they weren’t already over for good without him noticing the fact before everyone else did. There were better people around to be out there, fitter people, people less weighed down by doubt.

When the position on Icarus was offered to him, he took it like a last straw. He also took it against Emily’s clearly expressed wishes, tuning out on her unhappy protests. Following up a bad choice with an even worse one, he reacted to Emily’s discontent by drawing away. Not really able to find a way to reconcile with his estranged wife, he flung himself into an affair, an affair not just with anyone, but with a woman under his command. From that point onward things could only spiral downwards and of course they did invariably and unstoppably.

His command lasted two years and if truth be told these two years passed in something of a flurry for him with so much shit going on in his private life that he commanded the base both routinely and efficiently and without paying more than the merest attention to anything that wasn’t his direct responsibility. He perceived Rush who was the Head scientist of the Icarus Project mostly as a marginal presence, essential and annoying in equal parts; someone Young tried to ignore as best as he could. Back on Icarus he was able to afford himself that luxury. Back on Icarus his life was a mess, but in a normal way. In retrospect it felt so heartbreakingly ordinary, almost like the life of someone else.

Arriving on _Destiny_ was like descending into hell, a hell that was cold and dark and creaking and above everything else it was entirely Rush’s fault. Their new surroundings lacked the simplest things for survival – like breathable air for instance or food that didn’t cause your gagging reflex to kick in at the first swallow. Of these first days on board _Destiny_ he had none too clear a recollection. He was injured badly; he wasn’t fit for command. Of these first days only one memory remained clearly in his mind. While he was slowly getting better, slowly getting a grasp on the new situation, Rush was on a reverse path, a spiralling down that ended with a complete breakdown.

***

Rush slightly shifts in his sleep again and Young pulls his hand away, the hand he’d rested cradled against Rush’s neck. Looking down, Young tries to reconcile whom he sees now with his perceptions of the man during the first year. It doesn’t exactly work.

***

The first couple of weeks on _Destiny_ were so stressful they felt like a perpetual struggle to stay ahead of an avalanche that was threatening to bury him from behind. One little catastrophe followed another, giving birth to a whole set of new problems and disasters and everyone seemed to believe that he was responsible for fixing them.  

He established a tight military regimen. It was really the best solution to the situation at hand. It was a natural reaction, even a logical one. It was also the worst decision he could’ve made. Nothing in his previous career had prepared him for having to deal with a whole group of mutinous civilians. He dealt with it swiftly and decisively. Naturally Rush had been the most prominent instigator, the mastermind behind this attempted coup. The realization left Young silently fuming and frustrated. A multitude of scenarios played out in his mind, the most unfeasible ones also the most alluring. He flirted with the idea of simply arresting the man — to only let him out when he was supposed to perform clearly specified tasks. Of course, Camile would have his balls for breakfast if he tried anything so _rude_ with one of her precious civilians. Not that _that_ would stop him from doing something that he deemed absolutely necessary, but there were other factors to consider. In the end it boiled down to this: they needed Rush; he needed Rush. There was absolutely no one around to replace the man, and if they wanted to survive this, if they ever wanted to make it home, the solution lay in understanding and utilizing this ship. No one was better equipped to achieve that than Rush. There was no military solution available and, god, how he hated the universe for dropping that one on him so unexpectedly.

***

Rush stirs again, turning on his back this time. The change of position moves him closer to Young and he looks down again, looks at the face that he can see clearly now but for a strand of hair that partly covers closed eyes. Before he can think about it he reaches out, carefully drawing it back. Rush reacts with barely a twitch.

***

The beginning of the end came with Spencer’s suicide. In hindsight it was an occurrence that everyone had seen coming, maybe not the specifics, but the fact that Spencer had serious problems was glaringly obvious to anyone who cared to look. Unfortunately almost no one wanted to.

It was a matter of pure chance that Rush happened upon the dead Sergeant in his quarters. Framing Young for the supposed murder was anything but a coincidence, of course. It was the absolute low point between them.

The investigation taking place against him hurt. He put up a calm front, retreating behind a wall of cool professionalism — it was a well versed role for him to assume — but deep down he desperately struggled with the sheer injustice of it all. He felt vulnerable and powerless and he wanted it to stop. When Young fully realized what had happened, when he understood Rush’s involvement it felt like a switch had been thrown. All his frustration and the underlying anger suddenly turned into an ice-cold simmering rage.

He went through the gate with only one objective, one idea burning in his mind. He would put his foot down on this conflict once and for all, regardless of the outcome, not caring about consequences.

The subsequent confrontation between him and Rush was short and brutal, satisfying and hollow at the same time. It solved nothing and if he’d nurtured the faint hope of forcing Rush to back down, Rush’s defiantly snarled ‘We’ll never be done’ was so utterly and carelessly destroying that hope, causing his mind to blank out completely. At least that was the rationalization he came up with later, when the full extent of what he had done hit him square in the face. He’d left a member of his crew behind to die. He’d stood there on that alien desert planet, staring down at the unconscious Rush, taking in the man’s bloody face, streaked with dirt, Rush’s last words still resonating in Young’s mind. He’d stared blankly; then he’d turned and left.

***

There is no blood on Rush’s face now, but if Young concentrates he can easily superimpose the image of his memory over the present. The effect is more than a little disturbing. It reminds him of those cheesy and cheap holographic pictures that were all the rage when he was a kid. They changed whenever you looked at them from a different angle.

He tilts his head and notices a smudge on Rush’s face right over the left eyebrow. He leans closer, studying the mark. It could be ink from a pen or something else entirely that got on Rush’s hands while he was working on some part of _Destiny_. Young wonders what Rush might have done the previous day. He knows that Rush spent at least some hours on the bridge. Young saw him there. Before that they had breakfast together, but apart from these two incidences Young has no idea where Rush might have been. _He’s always been something of a stray cat_. The thought makes him smile. Yes, Rush has always been good at doing the vanishing act. At first he did it to keep his secrets and Young reacted by setting Eli out to spy on Rush. Later as Rush’s almost compulsive need to hoard his knowledge finally did lessen, Young on the other hand began to trust that should something important crop up, Rush would tell him. It hasn’t been an easy road, but step by step they’ve taken it.

For Young it’s a development that every once in a while still surprises him. After all that happened between them he would never have thought it possible to work, but over time they’ve managed to build a good working relationship. He lets his gaze wander from Rush’s face to the rest of his body mostly hidden under the covers, then back up again. _And lately my stray has learnt to use the cat flap, showing up in my bed, silent and almost a little bit too confident of his welcome._ He suppresses the chuckle welling up in his throat at the picture he’s just painted in his mind, both apt and ridiculous at the same time. He looks at his watch again, sees that no more than an hour has passed and returns to his perusal of memories.

***

Seeing Rush on board the Nakai ship was a shock. To some extent it was the fulfilment of Young’s most fervent wish at the time, a way to undo a fatal error in judgement, an error that had plagued his dreams and had hunted him relentlessly. but it was a gift laced with poison, a present pushed in his lap with a hefty price tag dangling from its wrappings.

He freed Rush from his watery prison without a second thought. He was startled to see Rush almost immediately and desperately trying to communicate with him, the Nakai that had acted so inexplicably by smashing the water tank’s cover. It said a lot about Rush’s will to survive whatever fate threw at him and his willingness to grasp every opportunity that presented itself to him.

Later, when Young found himself back on _Destiny_ his mind kicked in again, throwing a whole bundle of questions at him. Yes, he wanted Rush back, but was he really prepared to deal with the possible fall-out? How could he deal with being accused of attempted murder? What if Rush resorted to extortion? All these questions clamoured for his attention while he had to deal with the situation of _Destiny_ coming under attack by that Nakai ship and while he ordered Brody to ready their main weapon and return fire.

In the end Rush made it and he brought Chloe with him. He backed Young up on his feeble land-slide story and he even went so far as to agree to the fragile truce Young offered him in his quarters. At that time ‘For the sake of the crew’ had sounded almost like a mantra, intended as a mutual invocation to keep them both from going for each other’s throats.

***

His memories shift as he turns his mind to another episode.

***

It was an incident that made him very literally go for Rush’s throat despite all his best intentions. Learning that Rush had once again cheated him, had solved _Destiny’s_ master code quite some time ago, but had kept the knowledge to himself, almost made him lose it again. Yet, this time he clamped down hard on his own instinctive impulses.

He carefully put his MP down before attacking the man. He wanted to punish and this seemed the only way to get through to Rush. Young’s words and good intentions certainly didn’t seem to register well enough. Advancing, he saw first wariness then fear flicker across Rush’s face. _Bastard,_ he thought. _Why does it always take_ this _to make you realize you’ve overstepped your boundaries?_

Taking Rush down wasn’t that much of a challenge. He did so with burning anger and cold calculation. Subduing Rush and cutting his breath off until Young felt his resistance fading, his consciousness slowly slipping away, Young aimed and succeeded to make his point. This time, he didn’t leave afterwards.

The offer Rush made in return seemed like the hallucinations of a madman. To Young it sounded like some bizarre form of dual leadership shared between them and he couldn’t help the chuckle at the sheer ridiculousness of the idea. He saw the hurt in Rush’s eyes at his rejection, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Less than an hour later Rush saved his life.

***

Young yawns and carefully stretches his back. There are some things that easily enamour you with another person and being rescued from certain death is definitely one of them. He could name a couple of others, but getting rescued by Rush, literally at the last second, has been a pivotal moment between them. He looks at Rush’s right hand, lying loosely at his side, remembers how it gripped Young’s own before Rush slowly started to pull him down towards the safety of _Destiny’s_ hull.

Since then they have both had a few opportunities to reciprocate the gesture on Young’s part and to repeat it on Rush’s. It wasn’t something they planned, of course; it just happened and over time it has added a new flavour to their relationship, something as sharp and biting as it is sound and solid. It feels also disturbingly gentle sometimes, but they both manage to ignore that as best as they can.

Another thing that can be equally powerful as saving someone else’s life is joining shoulders with them. By now they’ve done that countless times, too, but as with everything else there has been a first time, still standing significantly in his mind.

***

He couldn’t say when exactly his perspective had shifted, but it must have happened sometime before Eli came up with the idea of dialling Earth while refuelling inside of a sun. It happened slowly and imperceptibly and when he realized it he was almost as surprised by it as Rush.

He easily overruled Rush’s objections against making the dialling-attempt at all. Young wanted to get their people home. Yet, when Rush had appealed to him, asking for his support, he had as easily agreed to giving it. It was the moment right after Rush had left and when Camile and Telford looked at him with expressions that questioned his sanity that he realized that he would stay, too. He suddenly realized that he could and would accept _Destiny_ as his; he wanted to see this mission through.

He was aware that Rush would never expect it and it filled him with something strangely akin to a quiet glee to wait for the moment when he would be able to spring that one on the scientist. The opportunity came very shortly after when Rush asked Young for his opinion about the speech Rush had prepared.

He gave Rush the most casual of looks, asking him how many of the crew would be necessary to keep _Destiny_ going. Rush answered innocently enough, but Young’s following question, his oh so nonchalant ‘Plus you and me?’ threw the man completely, even though he tried to cover up his surprise as quickly as possible.

In the end the whole incident turned out to be a mess. First he had a very recalcitrant Rush on his hands as he tried to organize their return home. Later there was not one, but two Rushes and, really, it made him wonder what kind of deity he had so thoroughly insulted to test him like that. When they finally drew back from the sun he was relieved to have at least one of them with them.

***

Once again it’s Rush shifting again that pull Young out of his memories. Rush turns on his side, this time moving even closer towards Young not away from him, one of Rush’s legs moving over his own outstretched ones, slipping between them.

Touch. He has been careful with his own touches, keeping them light enough so not wake Rush up, but now there’s touch between them and in his current rambling state of mind the sensation is enough to open yet another door to the past.

***

It was the preparations for going into stasis that brought with them something new to their relationship. Up to that point Young had only considered a new course of action concerning Rush. More than once he had pondered that old saying about keeping your enemies even closer than your friends. He’d never truly believed in those words wisdom, and it had certainly never suited his temperament, but now he was beginning to see some merit in it. He came to the decision that it might be just the right strategy if he ever wanted to make real headway in working with Rush. Of course at that point, he didn’t consider Rush an actual enemy any longer. He was more of a slightly unstable ally and in some regard that felt even more dangerous than their open hostility from before.

Young wanted and needed Rush on his side. He was willing to try a more risky strategy in achieving that goal and the preparations for going into stasis turned out to be the perfect opportunity to set it in motion. He would draw Rush in by any means available to him. It was something of a no holds barred approach, and he went for it resolutely, throwing at least some of his caution to the wind.

In the end he felt almost sure of his success and with that knowledge he went into his stasis pod to sleep and wait and hope for another galaxy free of command ships waiting at every gate and free of Nakai pursuing them relentlessly.

***

He feels Rush moving closer still, thinking that it’s most likely body heat the other man is seeking. Again Young marvels at the slightly curled up position, the vulnerability it expresses and the stark contrast it represents to Rush’s otherwise so prickly behaviour towards others.

Lately he has softened a bit and Young knows that it’s at least partly his own influence that has caused this change in Rush. He can’t help but grin at the feeling of self-satisfaction the thought invokes in his mind.

***

Coming out of stasis was a shock, not so much the fact that he felt like shit, but the fact that he woke and the first face peering at him was Rush’s, giving him a lopsided smile while pulling him forward, making him stumble down the two steps separating the pod from the corridor.

He found himself lowered to the floor, a cup of tea pressed to his lips that he drank reflexively. He felt disorientated and it took him a while and a couple of dazed minutes before he realized that he and Rush seemed to be the only ones awake. Before fear and suspicion could firmly take root within him, however, Rush told him that everything had gone exactly as planned. Eli’s calculations had been correct, the young man was safely tucked away inside his repaired pod, and the rest of the crew was simply waiting to be woken up.

As it turned out, Rush had programmed a couple of conditional clauses into the pod waking-up schedule that Young had approved. The result was that only the two of them had been woken instead of the group Young had specified, yet before his anger could flare Rush managed to reason him out of it. He knelt in front of Young, giving him such a serious look, telling him that with just the two of them it would be far easier to make the right decisions for refuelling and getting them back on their plotted path. It was a faulty logic in Young’s eyes, but he listened nonetheless, because it definitely was something new. Sure, Rush had plotted behind his back yet again, but he was consciously including him now. This behaviour was still far away from what Young would have deemed acceptable, but for the moment he was willing to accept the premise.

 _A fresh start,_ he thought, remembering the promise they had made to each other in another galaxy.

***

“You look like you’re millions of light-years away.” This time it’s Rush’s quiet voice that breaks his train of thought.

He flinches slightly, then looks back at Rush, returns the inquisitive stare directed up at his face. He doesn’t answer, knows it’s not really necessary. 

“Nightmare?” Rush asks, accompanying his question with an insistent tug on Young right arm.

For a moment he considers resisting. He could get up instead of relenting, but then he remembers what time it is and he allows himself to be dragged down, to be manhandled until he is lying on his side with Rush wrapped up behind him. He feels Rush’s breath ghost over his nape.

“Go back to sleep,” Rush whispers against his skin, as Rush’s arms circle round his waist, drawing him just a little bit closer.

Young snorts, against his will amused by the particular brand of entreaty mixed with command that is so typically Rush and that so often both captivates and unnerves him, the unnerving part mostly resulting from the fact that the combination works so well on him.

He knows that if he closes his eyes now, he will most likely fall asleep within minutes, but he doesn’t want to, not so soon at least. Carefully he evens out his breathing and once again he focuses on the past, focuses on the last months that have been so startling and intriguing.

_***_

Coming out of stasis was a shock; luckily not all of it was unpleasant. Refuelling _Destiny’s_ depleted power reserves went as smoothly as could be hoped. Young insisted on waking Eli for it and despite of some rather melodramatic eye-rolling by Rush, they proceeded to do so.

Later, as soon as _Destiny’s_ systems were once again humming at full power capacity they started to undertake the much longer process of bringing the rest of the crew out of stasis. That was when the _real_ work began. Before they had gone in he and Rush, with the occasional input from Camile, had set up a list of priorities to get done once they’d arrived in this new galaxy. It was a long list and it ruled their lives for months.

There was the food and water issue, but they also wanted to get their hands on as large a number of raw materials, too. Destiny needed repairs; she needed them urgently. Her crew on the other hand needed to learn more about this new galaxy they would be travelling through for the foreseeable future. They also needed to re-establish contact with Earth and Homeworld Command. After three years that turned out to be a surprising and sometimes disturbing experience of learning how many things had changed back home while others still remained the same.

They had been declared MIA after a year, pronounced dead after another. Seemingly no one had cared about their own three year estimate of arrival. “They’ve written us off, brushed us away as too bothersome to deal with and not important enough to waste any energy on.” Rush summed up what many of the crew felt. He and Young were playing a game of chess at the time, sitting on the observation deck. “While it’s unfortunate that they’ve cancelled the project to dial _Destiny_ again, I can’t say I’m going to miss their constant interference,” he continued. Silently Young agreed with the sentiment, though he refrained from saying so, containing himself to no more than a quick nod of assent.

Coming out of stasis was a shock and in its wake followed notable changes. It felt as if _Destiny_ was ever so delicately stretching her stubby wings as her crew finally laid claim to her. Not everyone was happy with this new development, but like the cutting of an umbilical cord the process was irreversible.

At that time he and Rush had already established a working relationship that was closer than anything they’d shared before. Unsurprisingly the withdrawal of Earth’s interest seemed to settle Rush, confirming the suspicions Young had held from the very beginning: that Rush had always perceived Earth as a looming threat to what Rush had claimed as his own from the moment he first set foot on _Destiny_.

Now, with the threat of Earth’s taking over greatly diminished he was much more willing to share his knowledge and in a very short time their working together developed a smoothness that was almost alarming.

***

“I can hear you thinking, you know?” Rush’s voice is more breath than sound.

Young only responds by pressing back, a silent reassurance by contact.

***

Young hadn’t seen it coming. If he had, would he have stopped it? Would he have run? The questions were moot now. It was a late night conversation on the observation deck that finally forced him to pay attention and look. He was playing chess with Rush again when it happened. He didn’t really notice as others of the crew joined them. Playing chess with Rush always required his full concentration and he was determined to win tonight. He was surprised when their game ended, a grudgingly settled upon draw, and he suddenly noticed Eli and Chloe, as well as Camile and TJ and a whole bunch of other crewmembers present around them. They’d drifted in to have a ‘talk-among-stars’ apparently. It was a relatively new institution on _Destiny_ , a sort of informal get-together to exchange views and share opinions in a setting outside of the normal day to day routines. Often there was booze that certainly made them much more informal than any other form of meetings they had.

 

They talked and drank from bottles making the rounds from hand to hand, their conversation drifting from subject to subject until it suddenly settled on him and Rush. It was Eli who brought it up, or was it Chloe? He didn’t catch it when it started, but that wasn’t important anyhow.

 

“The two of you,” Chloe suddenly said, her voice rising above the general hubbub of the gathered people around them. “You’ve always reminded me of a binary star system, you know? Both of you locked in a tumbling dance around each other, with _Destiny_ being your centre of gravity.”

There was a momentary silence following her words and Young saw Rush taking a breath. He fully expected a rather cutting remark, but then it was Eli, even more cocky than usual, his cheeks flushed from the booze, who spoke up.

“A good picture,” he praised, drawing a slightly inebriated giggle from Chloe. Eli looked first at Rush then over at Young. Then he continued, “But you know what the best thing about that picture is? It’s that our binary stars have finally settled down a bit, because their planetary system can only exist and flourish when there’s enough stability in it.” His voice that had started out teasingly enough was very serious towards the end. He made an encompassing gesture at the other crew-members around them, making it clear how his reference to planets should be understood.

Again silence reigned and this time it lasted much longer, until Rush broke it at last.

“A binary star system, hmm?” he asked his voice thick with surprisingly good-natured mockery. “Well, if we must resort to such corny analogies, let me make one thing clear: of any binary you might conceive,” he paused, throwing a pointed look at Eli, “I’m most certainly always the primary star.” He crossed his arms, letting his gaze flick from one face to the next until it finally settled on Young.

He stared at Rush for a moment, his mind almost frantically searching for any repartee witty enough to win this challenge, before remembering that words had never been his best playing field. So instead he just grabbed a cushion from behind him and threw it at Rush, hitting the man squarely in the face.

It was another draw between them, but the laughter his reaction earned him was good enough.

***

That night they went to Young’s quarters and they had sex. In a way it was the perfect opportunity. They could easily blame it on the booze or on Eli and the rest of the crew as well as their cheesy analogies and the following rather clumsy innuendo. Yes, it really was neither his nor Rush’s fault, but the excuse was good enough for both of them. Naturally they didn’t discuss it, not before or after, they just did what they wanted and luckily they were on the same page as to what that entailed. Maybe it was the natural conclusion of a process that started long ago, changing them from rivals to colleagues to— what?

Even now, weeks later, Young still hasn’t determined what exactly this is. Admittedly he hasn’t tried very hard. To be perfectly honest he hasn’t tried at all so far.

It just _is_ and maybe its charm lies in _not_ talking about it. Words have never been his strongest forte, and so far the language of touch has worked well enough for both of them.

END


End file.
